


When you sleep, will it be with me?

by iwillnotbecaged



Series: One foot in front of the other [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual Character, Bucky Barnes Is a Good Bro, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, Skinny!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-05-28 01:45:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6309469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillnotbecaged/pseuds/iwillnotbecaged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Steve decided that pretending to be in a relationship for two months for a psychological research study was a great way to make some extra cash. Cue all the pining and shenanigans.</p><p>Inspired by <a href="http://lesbianrey.tumblr.com/post/139998890690/looks-like-the-perfect-opportunity-for-the-fake">this tumblr post</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first chapter of I have no idea how many. I have three written so far and make no promises as to when I'll be able to update.
> 
> Thanks to the extravaganza squad for their constant encouragement and all the tumblr peeps who told me to give myself permission to go ahead and post a WIP.
> 
> Title from Mary Lambert's "When You Sleep"

“Steve! I have the solution to all of our problems!” Sam rushed through the door of the apartment, throwing his bag onto the collection of shoes and hats and other bags already piled on the floor of what was supposedly a coat closet.

“You figured out how to get Republican politicians to admit that climate change is real?” Steve called from the kitchen.

Sam squeezed past Steve to get to the sink and fill up his water bottle (it had only taken two weeks of living with Steve and hearing him sigh every time he opened a new plastic bottle to get Sam to buy a reusable one).

“Ok, not _all_ of our problems, asshole.” Sam took a drink and tossed a flyer onto the table. “Just to our current money problems. Which may not solve all the issues in the world, but will certainly make our lives better.”

Steve pushed his glasses up on his nose and looked over the flyer. “A psychological research study? Really? Those can be really unethical.”

“That’s...not really the part I thought you would have a problem with.”

“What do you — oh.” Steve looked up at Sam. “Seriously? Why did you even bring this home? We’re not a romantic couple.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that. Just hear me out.” Sam pulled out the other chair and sat down. “They want people who have been dating for at least six months, are living together, and are over 18. We’ve been friends for way longer than six months, we go out together all the time, we live together, and we’re over 18. We can just fake the romantic part of things.”

“But won’t that mess up the research study? I don’t want to screw with someone’s data just to make a few extra bucks.”

“Come on, Steve. It’s not like this is a drug trial for a cure for cancer. It’s for some psych student’s dissertation that maybe 5 people in the entire world will read.” Sam leaned forward with his elbows on the table. “We’re not going to rock the foundations of psychological research by acting like our relationship is slightly more romantic than it actually is.”

Steve still looked skeptical. “I don’t know...and hey, what do you mean, ‘slightly more romantic?’”

Sam raised an eyebrow at him. “Just last night we were cuddling on the futon in your room watching _The Walking Dead_. People who know you’re bi constantly think we’re dating. It’s not going to be that much of a stretch.”

Steve looked back down at the flyer. “What all would we have to do?”

Sam sat back in his chair. “Glad you asked. I already called the number — they said it’s a 2-month long study. We would need to go in for an initial interview, another interview at the halfway point, and then a final interview at the end. Other than that, they do a home visit once and there are a series of exercises they want us to complete. Oh yeah, and once a week we’re supposed to write a journal entry about our relationship.”

“That sounds like a lot.”

“For fuck’s sake, Steve. It’s good money and it won’t interfere with your freelance work or with my grad classes. Neither one of us can afford another part-time job right now. The only inconvenient part of this will be the home visit.”

“Why is that the inconvenient part?” Steve sounded suspicious.

Sam studied the chipped surface of the table. He had really meant to be smoother about introducing this particular part of things. “Well, they actually have us choose three possible dates for the visit. And then they just show up unannounced on one of them. Which means that during those times we’d have to actually be sharing a room - it would be too obvious that we were faking otherwise.”

Steve looked thoughtful. “That might actually work out pretty well,” he said cautiously.

“Really? Why?”

“Remember Bucky?”

“Your childhood best friend who you’ve skyped with on a regular basis since I’ve met you? Yes, I remember Bucky.”

“Turns out he’s looking to move back to New York. He’s been living with his parents in Indiana since he got out of the army and they’re driving him nuts. Apparently there’s some sort of experimental prosthetic program with Stark Industries that he’s applied for and it’s a good time for him to get out of there. He asked if he could crash with me, but when he realized we would have to share a room, he wasn’t exactly thrilled.” Steve shrugged. “He still has pretty bad nightmares, I guess, and he didn’t want to disturb me. But if I’m sharing your room, then maybe he could have mine? It would only be temporary, obviously.”

“See, man? I told you I had found the solution to all of our problems. I’m totally cool with Bucky staying here while he gets himself settled.”

“The study pays well?” Sam could tell that Steve was close to giving in.

“Yep.”

“It would be nice to have a little bit of extra cash. And it really doesn’t require that much time…” Steve fiddled with the corner of the flyer. “Okay, fine. Let’s do it.”

Sam pumped his fist in the air. “Yes! You are not going to regret this, man. I promise.”

 

Sam, on the other hand, was already regretting this. He was sitting at the bar and trying not to punch Jim in the face as he laughed hysterically. 

“I can’t, Sam. I just can’t. It’s too good.” Jim started laughing all over again and almost fell off his bar stool. Sam wished he _would_ fall off. It would serve him right for laughing at Sam in his time of need.

“What were you thinking? In what _universe_ is it a good idea for you to spend two months pretending to be in a relationship with a guy you’ve been mooning over for a year?”

“I have not been mooning,” Sam grumbled. “And I don’t know, okay? I saw the flyer, Steve and I had been complaining about money, and it seemed like a solution.” His forehead dropped onto the sticky bar. Sam couldn’t even bring himself to care about how unsanitary it was. He was an idiot and he deserved to have his face permanently plastered to this disgusting piece of furniture.

Jim just shook his head and chuckled again. “You are such a mess.”

Sam lifted his head and glared. “You’re one to talk. You ever going to say anything to that rich friend of yours that I’m supposed to pretend I don’t know is Tony Stark and that you’ve been in love with since I’ve known you?”

“Hey now, we came here to talk about your problems, not mine.”

“But if we talk about my problems, I can’t ignore them and pretend they don’t exist.” Sam was also going to ignore how much he sounded like a whiny teenager right then.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Jim waved a finger at him. “Ignoring our problems is counterproductive. We have to recognize them and name them and then work through them, one baby step at a time.”

“I hate you, you asshole.” Sam finished off his beer and muttered under his breath. “Quoting my own shit back to me like we’re at the VA again and not in a bar.”

Jim finally stopped laughing and looked over at him. “Seriously, man. Are you actually gonna go through with this? How are you going to do it without driving yourself crazy?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna do it. And it’s not that big a deal. A few interviews, a home visit, sharing a room for a couple of months. And his buddy is going to be crashing with us which’ll keep it from getting too weird.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so. It’ll be fine. It’s Steve, you know? He’s my best friend.”

Jim just shook his head. “Good luck, man.”

 

Sam tried to not to jiggle his leg nervously as he and Steve waited outside the office of the person who was running the study. Apparently the initial interviews were running a bit late, but there wasn’t anywhere to sit while they waited, so they were just loitering awkwardly outside the graduate student offices. 

He’d woken up after his night out with Jim wondering if maybe he should call the whole thing off, but Steve had decided it was a brilliant idea after all and was ready to jump right in with both feet. He was trying to regain the sense of calm about this that he had when he initially proposed the idea, but he wasn’t really succeeding.

“Hey, come here.” Steve broke into his thoughts.

“Come where? I’m right next to you.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “We’re supposed to be a couple. Couples don’t awkwardly stand three feet away from each other. Hell, we don’t normally stand this far away from each other.”

Steve held out his hand and beckoned Sam closer. Sam pushed himself off from the wall and turned to face Steve. He took Steve’s hand and laced their fingers together.

Sam’s heart lurched a bit when he looked down and saw their hands intertwined. Steve’s fingers were as slim as the rest of him, but his hands were big and there was more strength in them than was obvious at first glance. Sam really liked holding Steve’s hand. Shit.

Steve was looking up at him, head cocked to the side and a quizzical expression on his face. His dark rimmed glasses exaggerated his blue eyes and he looked like he was about to speak when the door across the hall opened.

A woman with striking red hair was showing another couple out of the office and then turned her gaze towards them. She studied them for a moment and Sam felt the urge to make sure he hadn’t left his fly down or dripped ketchup on his shirt at lunch. 

“Mr. Wilson and Mr. Rogers?”

Sam pulled himself together and gave her his most winning smile. “That’s us. I’m Sam and this is my boyfriend Steve.”

He looked over at Steve, attempting to look like a man in love. He should have expected it to be as easy as it was - after months of pining from a distance and trying to keep his face under control, it felt natural to let his emotions show. Steve was blushing, probably from embarrassment, so Sam spoke again, hoping to take some of the attention off of Steve.

“You ready for us?”

“I believe we are. Come on in and have a seat.”

They squeezed into the tiny office and sat in the chairs provided. The woman went behind the desk, joining a tall man in a long leather jacket who looked exactly like the kind of person Sam did not want catching him in a lie. Which was convenient, since Sam was about to spend the next two months lying to him. Awesome.

“My name is Natasha Romanoff and this is my partner, Nick Fury. We’ll be leading the study and conducting the interviews and home visits. As you know, today we’ll be doing the initial interview and gathering some basic information about the two of you and your relationship.”

The interview went smoothly. Sam and Steve had already discussed the story they would tell. They were keeping it simple: they had met a little over a year ago when Steve had done some graphic design work for the VA Sam attended and volunteered at. They became friends pretty much instantly and started dating a couple months later. They’d been together about 4 months when they moved in together. They knew it was early, but Sam’s lease was up and Steve’s roommate was moving out, so they figured why not? That had been 8 months ago and things were still going strong.

Really, the only part of the story that wasn’t true was the dating. Everything else was easy to remember and relating it to Natasha and Nick felt completely natural. They answered a few more questions together, and then Nick took Steve into another room so they could ask them questions separately. 

The whole process actually ended up putting Sam more at ease. Steve was his best friend; they knew pretty much everything about each other and they really did love each other, even if it wasn’t exactly the kind of love Sam wished for.

They left the interview and stopped by their favorite Thai restaurant to pick up dinner on the way home. They spent the evening crammed together on the futon under Steve’s loft bed, watching Netflix and passing the take out boxes back and forth. When Sam started to drift off, Steve shoved him off the futon and sent him to his own room to sleep. As he padded down the hall to his bedroom, Sam decided this wasn’t going to be so bad after all. 

He fell asleep thinking about holding Steve’s hand and smiling at the idea of doing it for the next two months.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky arrives, and we get a bit of Steve's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna wait until I had a bit more written before posting the next chapter, but I had a shitty day and wanted to put something happy into the world.
> 
> Thanks to [SD_Ryan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sd_ryan) for the read-through

“And this is my room. Well, your room now. The place is small, but it’s served us pretty well so far.” Steve dropped Bucky’s bag onto the futon. “I cleared out the closet around the corner there as much as I could and a couple of drawers from the dresser. If you need more space, let me know and we can try to figure something out.”

Steve knew he was rambling now, but couldn’t seem to stop himself. It was the first time he had actually been in the same room as Bucky in a few years and he was worried it would be awkward. Of course, it would probably be a lot less awkward if he would just shut up and act normal.

“Chill out, Steve.” Bucky clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s not like I have that much stuff. Everything looks great.” He eyed the twin-sized loft bed. “Although I guess I won’t be bringing anybody home with me any time soon.”

Steve blushed and fiddled with his hearing aid. “Yeah, sorry about that. It was the best way to get more space and it’s not like I, well, I mean—”

“Jesus Christ, I was kidding.” Bucky cut him off. “What’s with you? You’re acting like I’m some guy you found to rent the room on Craigslist.”

Steve looked up at him, wishing he could wipe away the line of concern between Bucky’s eyebrows. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just— I don’t know.” Steve shook his head and stood up straighter. He looked Bucky in the eye and gave him a smile. “I’m really glad you’re here, Buck. I missed you.”

“Aw, c’mere.” Bucky pulled him into a one-armed hug, resting his chin on the top of Steve’s head like he knew Steve hated. “I missed you too, punk.” 

“Quit it, jerk.” Steve squirmed half-heartedly for a moment out of pretense, then relaxed into the hug. It really was good to have Bucky back with him.

The door opened, ending the moment, and Sam called out, “Honey! I’m home! And I have that mac and cheese you like so much with me.”

Bucky lifted an eyebrow. “Honey?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “He’s having a lot of fun with this whole let’s-pretend-we’re-dating thing.”

“I’m sure he is.” Bucky smirked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Bucky said innocently. “Nothing at all. Come on, introduce me to your new boyfriend.”

“He’s not actually my...boyfriend” Steve tried to explain yet again, but Bucky had already brushed past him into the hallway. Steve just sighed and followed him into the kitchen.

He slipped into the already crowded room where Sam was setting out bowls and the containers of food. Once his hands were empty, Sam reached out and offered one to Bucky.

“Bucky Barnes! It’s nice to finally meet you in person and not just as a head on Steve’s computer screen.”

Bucky laughed and shook Sam’s hand. “Same to you.” He tightened his grip to keep Sam from pulling away. “Now what exactly _are_ your intentions with my best friend here?”

“Jesus, Bucky, cut it out.”

“I will not, Steve. If this man is going to pretend date you, I need to know his pretend intentions.”

Sam looked over at Steve and shrugged, humor glinting in his eyes. “He’s right, man. He’s just watching out for you.” He turned back to Bucky, his face a perfect mask of seriousness. “Well, sir, I was intending to spoil him rotten with gifts, embarrass him with ridiculously over-the-top romantic gestures, and spend every night playing his body like a fiddle until he comes so hard he forgets his own name.”

Bucky tried valiantly to keep a straight face, but only lasted a few seconds before he was bent over laughing hysterically. “I love this guy, Stevie. If you decide you don’t want him, I’m keeping him.”

“Alright, alright, you’re both hilarious. Can we sit down and eat now?”

“Sure thing, sweetcheeks.” Sam winked at him and he definitely didn’t blush because of it. He didn’t.

 

Steve watched Bucky unpack his few belongings, listening carefully to make sure the shower was still running.

“Um, Buck?”

Bucky grunted a response, not looking up.

“You might want to be careful joking around about sex too much with Sam.”

Bucky did look over at that. “Huh? What do you mean?”

Steve reached up and adjusted his hearing aid. “Well, Sam’s asexual.” Bucky just looked at him. “That means—” 

“I know what asexuality is, Steve.” Bucky stood up straight and stuck his right hand on his hip. “What are you getting at?”

Steve shrugged. “I just don’t want you to make him feel uncomfortable is all. I know you wouldn’t mean to, but it’s something to keep in mind.”

“You do realize that _Sam_ was the one that joked about sex earlier, right? I didn’t say anything.” Realization dawned on Bucky’s face. “Oh my god. This is why you haven’t told him how you feel, isn’t it? Cause you think being ace means he doesn’t want to actually date you?”

“Not entirely.” Why was Bucky making such a big deal out of this? And how did this conversation become about him? “Ace or not, he’s not interested in a relationship, and certainly not with me.”

Bucky kept pushing. “How do you know? Have you even asked him? No, of course not. You already know everything, so why would you need to ask?”

“Look, I just know, okay!” Steve forced himself to get his volume under control before continuing. “He hasn’t dated anybody the entire time I’ve known him. He hasn’t even _talked_ about dating anyone. It’s just not his thing.”

“And being ace is the only explanation for that? He couldn’t have been, oh, I don’t know, waiting for his idiot roommate to make a move?”

The shower shut off and Steve lowered his voice to a hiss. “You just don’t get it. You’ve only known him for a few hours.”

Bucky gentled. “Exactly. And a few short small-talk conversations over Skype and two hours were all it took for me to figure out that that man in there does not just want to pretend he’s dating you.”

Steve wanted to believe him. He really, really wanted to believe him. But Bucky didn’t know the whole story. He sighed. “Whatever, Buck. I’m gonna go get ready for bed. Let me know if you need anything else.”

Bucky looked like he wanted to say more, but thankfully he let it drop. “Will do, Stevie.”

Steve left the room, shutting the door behind him. Sam was standing in the dark hallway with a towel around his waist, light from the bathroom spilling out and glinting off the water droplets still clinging to his skin. It was nothing Steve hadn’t seen before in the months they’d been living together, but his stomach twisted itself into knots all the same.

“Bucky all set?” Sam asked.

“Yep,” Steve managed, shoving his hands into his pockets awkwardly. 

Sam grinned at him easily. “You got any preference about which side you sleep on?”

“Nah. You pick. I’ll be in in a minute. I’m just gonna…” He trailed off and waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the bathroom.

“Sure thing. I’m gonna go ahead and turn in.” 

“G’night.” Sam turned and walked into his bedroom. Their bedroom. Whatever.

Steve went into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. The small space was still humid from Sam’s shower. Steve brushed his teeth and splashed some water on his face. He studied himself in the mirror for a moment, then turned off the light and walked out.

Sam had left the door open for him and there was enough ambient light from the window for Steve to find a pair of pajama pants in the drawer Sam had cleared out for him earlier. He changed as quietly as possible and slipped under the covers, doing his best not to disturb Sam. He placed his glasses and his hearing aid on the nightstand and lay down on his side, his back facing Sam.

He lay there for a long time, listening to Sam breathe behind him and trying not to let himself believe Bucky’s words.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [pringlesaremydivision](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pringlesaremydivision) for the read through, and a very happy birthday to [SD_Ryan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SD_Ryan), who has been super supportive of all my fic endeavors (and just of me in general - she's the best).

Sam opened up his laptop to get started on his journal entry for the week. He wished he could do this with Steve, but he only had a few minutes during a break between classes to get it done and Steve had a meeting with a client today.

He opened up the email from Natasha that contained the prompt and instructions for how to submit their entries.

_Write 5 things your significant other did this week that you appreciate. It doesn’t have to be anything big; you can count small things like hugs or taking a walk with you._

Well, that wasn’t too hard. Steve did all kinds of things that Sam appreciated, just because he was Steve. He always had.

_1\. Steve took all the laundry to the laundromat on Sunday so I could work on a paper._

Sure, Steve did it because it made for fewer loads if he combined Sam’s stuff with his, which helped to conserve water. It was still nice and Sam still appreciated it. He had really needed to finish that paper and not having to worry about whether or not his clean clothes would last him for the rest of the week made it a lot less stressful.

_2\. He made coffee for me when I was running late on Tuesday._

Steve didn’t actually drink coffee since it tended to upset his stomach, but he had heard Sam banging around, cursing his alarm, and had handed Sam a travel mug, fixed exactly the way he liked it, as Sam rushed out the door for class.

_3\. He watched Scandal with me last night, even though I know he hates it._

And he hadn’t even ranted about widespread corruption and narrative inconsistencies like he usually does. Although the fact that Bucky had threatened to smother him with a pillow if he didn’t shut up may have had something to do with that.

_4\. He’s been really great at helping his friend Bucky get settled in the city._

He wondered if that one really counted. It wasn’t something Steve did for _him_ , but it did make him appreciate how much Steve cared about his friends. Sam knew that Steve would do the same for him if he needed it. He decided to leave it. 

Now he just needed one more. He looked back over his list and wondered if he should make something up that sounded a bit more...coupley. Everything on his list was just the kind of thing any good friend or good roommate would do. Maybe the list needed something more romantic?

_5\. He let me lay with my head in his lap and rubbed my temples when I had a headache._

Sam looked at it for a moment, then deleted it. That wasn’t romantic enough, plus he had actually done that for Steve the other night, and what if he put it on his list?

_5\. He woke me up with a blowjob_

He had barely finished typing it when he started hitting the backspace button repeatedly. Nope. Too much. Plus they had decided to be as honest as possible to try to keep things simple, and being woken up by an uninvited blowjob wasn’t actually something he would appreciate. Could he put that Steve _hadn’t_ woken him up with a blowjob?

Ugh. Why was this so hard? He just needed to put something and submit it.

_5\. He listened to me complain for half an hour about how impractical my classes feel and how impatient I am to actually be in a school working with kids._

There. That was fine. Still not super romantic, but weren’t the best relationships built on friendship anyway? He submitted the document to Natasha before he could second guess himself and closed his laptop. With a sigh, he pulled out one of his impractical textbooks and looked over the reading for his next class. 

 

Two hours later, Sam’s weekend had officially begun. Class was over and he had a rare weekend that didn’t involve writing a paper or working on a project. The only thing on his to-do list for the next two days was relaxation.

He texted Steve that he was done and on his way to the bar. The response was almost immediate.

_Awesome! Bucky’s coming too, and he’s bringing a friend_

**That’s great! He makes friends quick**

_Apparently he knew her before he moved here_

_He said it was classified, but I think he’s just being an asshole_

**Hahahaha**

**Have I mentioned that I really like this guy?**

_Yeah yeah everyone loves Bucky_

_See you in a few_

Sam slipped his phone in his pocket and headed down to the subway. The platform was crowded, but he was early enough to miss most of the rush hour crowds and it didn’t take him too long to get to the bar. Before he knew it, he had claimed a table and had a nice cold beer in front of him.

“Hey man. How was class?” Steve clapped him on the shoulder and then slid into the chair next to him. He had tried to avoid the high-tops — Steve had mentioned once that they made him feel shorter than he already was — but the place was busy and he hadn’t had a lot of options.

“Same old, same old. Lots of theory that sounds good on paper, but mostly sounds like the people who wrote it have never actually met a teenager in their life.” Sam toyed with his napkin. “Sorry about the table. I’ve been trying to keep an eye out for a regular one, but no one seems to be leaving anytime soon.”

“It’s alright. Thanks for trying.” Steve looked like he wanted to say something more, but he stopped.

“What?” Sam asked.

“Nothing, nothing.” Steve looked up at him and shrugged. “Just, it’s one of the things I wrote about in the journal thing. That I appreciate about you. You remember that kind of stuff, but without making it into a big deal or anything.”

Sam thought Steve might be blushing a little bit. It was probably just the heat in the crowded bar.

“So, just...thanks, I guess. For remembering.” Steve avoided Sam’s eyes and looked over to the bar. “I’m gonna go get a drink.”

“Yeah, okay. Sounds good,” Sam answered, but Steve had already left the table. He took another sip of his beer. That was weird. Was that weird? Steve wasn’t usually big on talking about his feelings, and Sam had honestly thought it would be more likely for him to be annoyed than appreciative. Steve hated when people underestimated him or tried to help him when he hadn’t asked for it.

He didn’t have long to think about it though before Steve came back with his drink.

“So class was a bummer? What brilliant insight did you learn about today?”

Sam put on his very serious face. “Did you know, Steven, that when given options, teenagers will _choose_ to learn new things? That if you just give them enough choice and freedom, they will naturally be more interested in the intricacies of social studies than they are in their cell phones?”

Steve adopted a similar tone. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely.” Sam nodded gravely. “Rules and grades are actually restraints on learning and should be completely replaced with intrinsic motivation.”

“Makes sense. And how exactly do you create intrinsic motivation in a teenager that has already spent 10 years in the school system?”

“Would you believe we didn’t actually get to that? I’m guessing it involves time-travel and pixie dust and maybe even the One Ring of power.”

Steve burst into laughter, earning them a few looks from neighboring tables. Sam just smiled, glad that he could put that look on Steve’s face. He stopped joking for a moment.

“I mean, I know that it’s important to give kids choices and believe that they do want to learn and not treat them like they’re all lazy pieces of shit. But to act like every teenager would just _want_ to learn how to write an essay if you weren’t requiring them to write an essay is ridiculous. Especially if I’m going to be working in a system that has spent the last decade defined by high-stakes testing and not fostering a love of learning.”

Steve was smiling at him.

“What?”

“You’re gonna be such a great teacher, Sam.”

Sam’s heart clenched a little at that. “I hope so. Anyway, let’s talk about something else. I don’t want to think about school at all for the next two days. How did your meeting go today?”

“Pretty good.” Steve caught Sam up on his latest client. Thankfully this one actually listened to Steve’s advice instead of asking him to change the font to Comic Sans. Steve was just finishing his story when Bucky walked up to the table and pulled out a chair.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve greeted him. “Where’s your friend?”

Bucky nodded hello to both of them. “She’s just finishing up a phone call outside. She’ll be here in a minute.”

“So how do you know her?” Sam asked.

“That’s classified.” Bucky swiped Steve’s drink. His face was serious, but there was a hint of a smirk in his eyes.

“See?” Steve waved a hand at him. “I have no idea if he’s serious or just being a dick. I’m his best friend; I should be able to tell these things!”

Sam just laughed. “I’m thinking it’s a little of both.”

Bucky broke into a smile. “Don’t worry about it, Stevie. You’re still my best friend, even if you can’t tell when I’m bullshitting you.”

Steve sputtered a response, but was interrupted by the arrival of Bucky’s friend.

“Hey fellas.”

Sam turned around and found himself face to face with none other than Natasha Romanoff.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to pringlesaremydivision again for the read through, and for the whole squad for helping me figure out just how Steve managed to embarrass himself in high school. Y'all are the best!

Sam recovered faster than Steve did, thankfully. He was shaking hands, pulling out a chair, and effortlessly engaging Natasha in conversation while Steve was still sitting there with his mouth open like a complete idiot. Bucky kicked him under the table and then saved him from any further embarrassment by enlisting his help in getting the next round of drinks from the bar.

“What is wrong with you? I know you’re bad at talking to women, but that was a whole ‘nother level.” Bucky waved his right arm to get the bartender’s attention.

“Why—how—why did you bring her here? How do you even know her?”

Bucky’s eyebrows drew together. “Natasha? She’s an old friend from the army. I told you she was meeting us here. Seriously, what is your deal?” The bartender came over and Bucky gave him their order.

“ _She’s_ your old friend? Oh shit, we are so screwed.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands that normally flopped over his forehead. Bucky waited for him to explain.

“Natasha is in charge of the study Sam and I are a part of. The relationship thing.”

Bucky looked over to the table where Sam was chatting with Natasha and lost his damn mind.

“Oh my god,” he gasped, barely able to get the words out in the midst of all the laughter. “This is amazing. I love my life right now!”

“This is not funny,” Steve growled through gritted teeth.

“This is definitely funny. It’s downright hysterical.” Steve glared at him, arms crossed and bristling like a cat caught in the rain. 

“Okay, okay, I’m stopping now.” Bucky took a deep breath, bringing his hand in front of his chest in one of the bullshit yoga poses he had demonstrated for Steve over Skype before.

“Are you finally done?”

Bucky nodded and let his hand fall back down to his side. “Yes, I’m done. And as funny as I still find this, I also think you’re overreacting.”

“How can I be overreacting when I haven’t even had a chance to react with you standing there cackling like a hyena?”

“Because I know you. You wouldn’t be this mad at me if you weren’t panicking inside right now, and there’s really no reason to panic. You and Sam knew you were going to have to act like a couple for the interviews and the home visit. Is it really that much different to act like a couple here?”

Steve scuffed his boot against the floor. “I guess not. It’s just, I wish I had had some warning. Sam and I never really talked about how we would do this thing in public. We didn’t really think we needed to.”

“And again with the overreacting. Just act like you always do, Steve. No one’s expecting you guys to start making out in the middle of the bar.” The bartender brought their drinks over and placed them on the bar.

“But if I act like I always do, we won’t look like a couple at all,” Steve protested.

“You actually believe that, don’t you? You are so oblivious.” Bucky sighed and turned to pick up his glass. “Grab these other drinks and let’s go back to the table.”

Steve watched Bucky walk away, then turned and grabbed Sam’s beer and Natasha’s...whatever it was. He hadn’t been paying attention. He set his shoulders and went to face his doom.

 

Steve hated to admit it, but Bucky was right. Once he managed to calm down and pay attention to the conversation, hanging out with Natasha was actually pretty fun. Steve always enjoyed a story where Bucky was the punchline, and she was more than happy to oblige. Her dry sense of humor served her particularly well when she told stories about their operations and she had mastered the art of giving her audience just enough detail without revealing anything she wasn’t supposed to. It didn’t take long for Steve to relax and start telling stories of his own from their childhood, teasing Bucky about bad clothing decisions and even worse haircuts.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough about me. I think it’s Steve’s turn.” Bucky drained the rest of his glass and turned to Sam. “Has Steve ever told you about the time he wore booty shorts in front of the whole school for no reason?”

Steve narrowed his eyes at Bucky. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would,” Bucky grinned.

Sam leaned in. “I absolutely need to hear this story.”

Steve crossed his arms. “I need another drink.” But he stayed in his seat. He wasn’t going to let Bucky tell the story without him there to defend himself.

“Okay, so during our sophomore year of high school, the administration made some changes to the dress code. It was a lot more restrictive and super sexist and all around kind of ridiculous. Like, the male requirements were basically ‘look professional’ while the female requirements were this huge list of things they could and couldn’t wear.

“Steve got it into his head that he was going to be a hero and organize a protest because ‘what people choose to wear is a form of expression that is covered by our first amendment rights and dress codes are simply a way for the patriarchy to simultaneously both police and sexualize female students.’”

“I didn’t say it like that,” Steve muttered.

“I’m pretty sure that’s word for word what you put on the flyer.”

“I believe it,” Sam raised a hand in agreement.

Steve rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t wrong though, was I? Natasha?”

Natasha patted his hand. “You weren’t wrong.” He was glad someone was on his side, until she pulled her hand back and smirked. “I still want to hear about how this leads to booty shorts, though.”

“I’m getting there,” Bucky continued. “So Steve’s on his own, planning a demonstration for the assembly that was scheduled later that week. Meanwhile, the president of the student council, Peggy Carter, writes this amazing letter to the administration explaining why the new policy is unfair and unnecessary and gets pretty much the whole school to sign it in agreement.”

“The whole school?” Sam asked.

“Yep. If Peggy wanted something to get done, it got done. God, she was amazing.” Bucky stared off into space, losing the thread of the story.

Steve kicked him under the table. “Finish up, asshole.”

“Sorry, sorry. So Peggy submits the letter and the petition to the administration, totally professional and full of research and statistics and basically the greatest thing you’ve ever seen a high school student write. Friday rolls around, and it’s time for the assembly. Steve slips off to go change for his demonstration, so he misses the beginning. The very first thing the principal does is announce that because of Peggy’s letter, the administration had reconsidered and were reinstituting the older, much more fair, dress code.

“Steve doesn’t hear this, though, so right after the announcement, he bursts out onto the auditorium stage in a spaghetti-strap crop top and the tiniest pair of shorts I’ve ever seen outside the toddler section, carrying a giant poster with ‘am _I_ out of dress code?’ written on it in all caps. The whole school just cracked up and Steve stood there, shaking with fury, thinking they weren’t taking the issue seriously. He was shouting and ranting and refused to leave the stage until Peggy came up and explained to him what had happened.”

“Oh my god.” Sam’s eyes were full of glee. “Are there pictures? Please tell me there are pictures.”

“Oh yeah. There was a full page spread on the whole thing in the yearbook.”

Natasha and Sam were in stitches, both demanding that Bucky bring the yearbook back with him the next time he went home to see his family. Steve slumped in his chair, arms crossed over his chest.

“Good things came out of it, though,” Bucky added, looking over at Steve. “Turns out Peggy appreciated some well-placed righteous anger and snapped this guy right up. They dated until she left for college that fall. And we laugh about it, because it’s fucking hilarious, but I still remember that it meant a lot to people that Steve was willing to do something like that for a cause that wasn’t even about him. For the rest of high school he was the first person anyone came to if they felt like the school or a teacher was treating them unfairly.”

The conversation moved away from Steve’s teenage antics then, and Sam asked Natasha a question about her graduate work. Steve made eye contact with Bucky, trying to convey his thanks. Bucky nodded in acknowledgement, then smiled. Steve gave him a puzzled look, and then Bucky gestured subtly over Steve’s shoulder. He turned and glanced behind him, but there was nothing there.

He gave Bucky another questioning glance, and he just gestured again and then started messing with his phone. Steve looked over his shoulder and this time he figured out what Bucky was getting at: Sam’s arm was nonchalantly draped across the back of his chair, as if that was exactly where it belonged.

Steve’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out to look.

_Told you there was nothing to worry about_

Steve rolled his eyes, shoved his phone back in his pocket, and tried to pick up the thread of the conversation. He spent the rest of the evening acutely aware of Sam’s hand hovering just inches from his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi [on tumblr](http://i-will-not-be-caged.tumblr.com)! There are pictures of pretty people and cute animals and maybe even an occasional snippet of an upcoming chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks forever to pringlesaremydivision for the read through and to everyone who has left me lovely comments and encouragements. Y'all are great.

Sam blinked awake slowly the next morning. Everything felt soft and warm and he was contemplating staying in bed all day when he felt Steve shift next to him. 

He woke a little faster when he realized that Steve was _right_ next to him. And that at some point during the night he had wrapped his arms around Steve and tucked him into his chest. Soft blond hairs were tickling his chin and he could feel Steve’s chest rise and fall under his hand with each breath.

Shit.

He managed to get out of bed without waking Steve and padded out to the kitchen. He was surprised to see Bucky was already there and making coffee. He almost offered to help, but it looked like Bucky had figured out a system that worked.

“G’morning.” 

Bucky grunted in response and Sam reached past him to grab some orange juice from the fridge. He poured a glass of juice and let the quiet of the morning settle around them. Once Bucky had a chance to drink some of his coffee and looked a bit more aware of his surroundings, Sam made another attempt at conversation.

“What are you doing up so early? Big plans today?”

“I’ve gotta head into the city for a meeting with Stark. Apparently he doesn’t understand the meaning of weekends.” Bucky shrugged. “Not that it matters much to me. It’s not like I spend all week working right now.”

“Yeah, I remember that feeling. Like without any landmarks, everything just blurs together. It was rough keeping track of the days, especially during the time I was being stubborn and refusing to go to the VA.”

Bucky gave him a small smile over his coffee mug. “You pulled that one too?”

“Oh yeah. I went once or twice when I first got back, then thought I could tough it out on my own. It wasn’t until my sister read me the riot act for missing my nephew’s piano recital that I got my act together and started going regularly.”

“Sisters, man. They definitely know how to keep you motivated. Or how to annoy you enough that you’ll do literally anything to make them shut up.”

Sam laughed. “True, true. Was your sister the one that kept you in line back in Indiana?”

“Yeah, she did. Becca’s a pain in the ass, but in the best way, you know what I mean?”

“I’m pretty sure I do. Sarah’s the same way.” Sam paused for a minute, considering. He didn’t want to overstep, he had just met the guy, but he didn’t think Bucky would mind. “If you want, there’s a center only a few blocks from here that I still drop in on occasionally. We could go to one of their group sessions this week if you felt like it would be helpful.”

Bucky’s voice was a bit rough when he answered. “Yeah. That sounds good. Thanks, man.”

“No problem.” Sam finished off his juice and got up to put the glass in the sink. “If it won’t make you late to wait for me to get ready, can I tag along with you today? I got a few errands to run in the city and would love to have some company on the train.”

“Sure. I’m not in a hurry. Plus it’ll give me time for another cup of coffee.”

“Awesome. I’ll be ready in a few.”

 

“Wait a minute, you’ve actually met Pepper Potts? _The_ Pepper Potts? CEO of Stark Industries and philanthropist extraordinaire Pepper Potts?”

They were on the train to Manhattan and Sam was trying really hard not to completely lose his cool in public.

Bucky chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve met her. Just the once, though. She seemed really cool. Watching her handle Stark was like watching the Russian ballet. She reminded me a lot of Peggy, actually.”

“Knows what she wants, unapologetically goes after it, and doesn’t take any shit?” Sam raised an eyebrow.

“Exactly.”

Sam nodded thoughtfully. “Seems like maybe you’ve got a type.”

“What do you mean?”

“Peggy...Pepper...Natasha…”

“Ah, I see what you mean.” Bucky leaned back in his seat. “I guess I do find myself drawn to people like that. I mean, Steve’s the same way and that’s probably a big part of why we’ve been friends for so long.” He shrugged. “Relationships aren’t really my thing though.”

Sam look over at him. “You aro?”

“I guess? It wasn’t something I ever really worried about putting a name to, but that one seems to fit better than others.”

“Yeah, I get that. I feel the same way about being ace. Sometimes I wonder if it’s really the best way of describing what I feel, but it works well enough. Most of the time I like the label just because it’s nice to at least have _something_ that other people can try to wrap their minds around.”

“Like Steve?” Bucky grinned knowingly.

Sam huffed a laugh. “Yeah, like Steve.” He shook his head ruefully. “I love the guy, and Lord knows he tries, but, well, he really likes having labels for things.”

“Sounds like there’s a story there.”

The train slid to a stop and Sam stood up to move towards the door. “Another time. This is our stop.”

They headed up to the street and blinked in the sunlight. 

“Any idea what time Stark’ll be finished with you?”

“No clue. He’s not exactly the most predictable person. How about I text you when I’m about to head back? If it looks like it’s getting too late for you, though, just let me know. I don’t want you hanging around with nothing to do because of me.”

“Sounds like a plan. And I’m sure it’ll be fine; my friend Jim hangs out around here a lot, so he can keep me company.”

Bucky gave him a small wave and disappeared into Stark Tower. Sam’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out to find a text from Steve.

_Hey, where are you?_

**I went into the city with Bucky. He was meeting Stark and I tagged along. Figured I’d go by the library and pick up some books for class, maybe hang out with Jim**

The bubble indicating that Steve was typing appeared, then disappeared. Shit. He should have realized Steve would want to come with them, even if he _had_ been asleep.

**You were still sleeping when we left and I didn’t want to wake you up. Should I have?**

**You’ve been working hard lately and I thought you could use the rest**

**Sorry man**

Sam made himself stop typing and actually wait for a response. 

_It’s cool. I have a couple of projects I wanted to get ahead on anyway._

Sam breathed a sigh of relief. Steve was fine. In fact, he would probably enjoy having the apartment to himself for a while. Sharing a room with Sam was probably starting to get a bit suffocating for him.

**Awesome**

**We should be back in time for dinner and then we can all hang out**

_Sounds good._

 

Sam texted Jim around lunch time to see if he wanted to meet up. Jim was more than happy to and agreed to meet him at a sandwich place around the corner from Stark Tower. They had just placed their order when Jim started in on him.

“So how’s the new relationship going?” he asked with a sly grin. “It’s been what, a week? Still enjoying the glow of the honeymoon period?”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t. Seriously though, how’s it going? You surviving?”

Sam toyed with the discarded straw wrapper on the table. “It’s been fine, I guess. I mean, there was the minor complication of the woman running the study turning out to be a really good friend of Steve’s best friend, a.k.a. the man who is now sharing our apartment. But other than that—”

“Wait, wait, wait. Back up — I want to hear that story.”

While they waited for their food, Sam told the story of meeting Natasha at the bar the night before for Jim, who found the whole thing endlessly entertaining. Someday he would love to have friends who weren’t quite so amused by his misfortune.

“That is some multi-cam sitcom level shit right there.” The waitress came over with their plates before Jim could continue. “Anything else?”

Sam sighed and took a bite of his sandwich. Of course Jim could tell there was something else. “It’s not a big deal. Just a little distracted.”

Jim popped a fry into his mouth and stared him down. Sam considered waiting it out, but that had never ended well for him. Jim had a lot of practice with being patient.

“It’s really nothing. I’m being ridiculous.” Sam put down his sandwich. “When I woke up this morning, Steve and I were, well, we were spooning.”

“Oooo! Were you the big spoon or the little spoon?”

“God, you are such an asshole.” Jim just waited. “I was the big spoon, alright? And yes, I liked it and no, I haven’t stopped thinking about it all day, and can we please talk about something else now?”

“Don’t you feel better now?” Sam flipped him off across the table. “Alright, alright, subject change. Are you caught up on The Walking Dead?”

Sam was more than ready to talk about Rick and Michonne and the conversation drifted from there. About halfway through their meal, he got a text from Bucky saying Stark was finished with him for the day. Sam gave Bucky the address and a few minutes later he was waving him over to the table and making introductions.

“Jim, this is Steve’s friend Bucky. He’s working with Tony on his new prosthetic project. Bucky, this is Jim.”

“Wait, your friend Jim is Colonel James Rhodes?” Bucky reached out to shake his hand. “Man, Stark does _not_ shut up about you. He’s constantly like, ‘my boyfriend this’ and ‘my boyfriend that’ and ‘my boyfriend is the greatest thing since sliced bread’. He once showed me a picture he had of you in his wallet!”

Jim laughed, and then his eyes went wide. “Wait, what?”

Bucky and Sam look at him in confusion.

“He called me his, his boyfriend?” Jim seemed to be having a hard time getting the words out.

“Yeah, he did. I think his exact words were ‘Rhodey, Colonel James Rhodes, the 2nd smartest man I’ve ever met and my boyfriend.’ He was asking if I had ever met you before. Apparently he thinks everyone who’s ever been in the military knows each other?”

Jim looked over at Sam, blinking rapidly and swallowing. “I am—I am so confused right now.”

Bucky looked at Sam too, the question obvious on his face. “Jim here has been pining after Tony for about as long as I’ve known him,” Sam explained. 

“I need to— I need to go, I think.” Jim stood up and patted his pockets. “Um, I— I’ve gotta— oh! I need to pay!” He looked around frantically, searching for the waitress.

“Don’t worry about it, Jim,” Sam reassured him. “I’ve got you. You can pick up the tab next time. Go get him, tiger!”

Jim rushed out of the restaurant without saying goodbye and Sam grinned, shaking his head.

“Well, I guess I just dropped a bomb in the middle of his life, didn’t I?” Bucky looked pleased with himself.

“You could say that.” Sam finished off the last of his fries and wiped his hands on his napkin. “I think it’ll be good for him, though. He needed a kick in the ass, otherwise he was going to just spend his whole life pining.”

“Hmmm.” Bucky tilted his head and looked at him.

Sam shifted in his chair. “What?”

“Nothing. You all done here?”

“Yeah. Just let me pay and then we can head on home.”

 

When they got home, Steve was holed up in his and Sam’s room working on a project. Bucky and Sam were watching TV on the futon when he finished. He looked down at them with an odd expression on his face, and then went to climb up onto the loft bed.

“There’s plenty of room down here if you want to sit with us,” Sam called up to him.

“I’m good.”

“It’s really not a problem, Stevie. Missing an arm means I don’t take up nearly as much space as I used to.”

Bucky’s joke got a small laugh from Steve, but without seeing his face, Sam couldn’t tell if it was real or not.

“I’m really fine. Just feel like stretching out a bit.”

Bucky shrugged and turned his attention back to the TV. He probably had the right idea. If Steve wanted to do something, there wasn’t any convincing him otherwise. He’d probably just spent too much time hunched over his computer working and didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.

Sam sank back into the futon and tried to pay attention to the show they were watching, but he couldn’t seem to get comfortable again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi [on tumblr](http://i-will-not-be-caged.tumblr.com)!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to pringlesaremydivision for the read through and to mrs_d for helping me with the Thai food bit

The three of them settled into a more-or-less comfortable routine over the next few weeks. Sam had been right — sharing a room wasn’t really all that different than sharing the apartment. In fact, Steve sometimes found himself struggling to remember what it had been like before they started this whole thing and Bucky moved in with them. It had all happened so seamlessly and he enjoyed having his friend close again. 

And if he occasionally woke up in Sam’s arms, well, that wasn’t that big a deal. Sam didn’t even know he was doing it, and there was no point in bringing it up and embarrassing the guy. It was kind of nice, actually, and Steve didn’t want him to feel self-conscious about it.

“Are you and Buck headed to the VA tonight?” Steve was finishing up some work for a client at the desk while Sam lounged against the headboard playing with his phone.

“That’s the plan. Unless, of course, Stark keeps him late running more tests on his arm again.”

Steve huffed a small laugh. “I don’t think Bucky really knew what he was getting into when he signed up for Tony’s project. The arm is cool, though, and I think he likes having it. I’m happy for him.”

“Me too. Not a lot of guys get the opportunity for something like that.”

Steve reached up and adjusted his hearing aid. When he spoke, he tried to sound casual. “Do you think Bucky feels guilty about that? About getting such a high-tech prosthetic when so many other guys don’t have that option?”

Sam hesitated. Steve didn’t turn around to look at him and kept clicking things on his laptop, hoping he wasn’t screwing anything up beyond fixing. He thought he heard the faint rustle of the bedding, but Sam still didn’t speak.

“Never mind, it’s none of my business.” Steve changed the subject before he could make Sam any more uncomfortable than he already had. “You’re still available tomorrow evening, right? It’s the second time we gave for the home visit and since they didn’t come on Sunday, we need to be ready.”

“Yeah, of course. Do you remember them saying anything about what to expect? It’s just asking some questions and seeing where we live, right?” Steve swivelled around in the chair to face 

Sam.

“I think so. They probably want to see how living together affects our relationship, like if it causes tension or whatever. Maybe watch us fight about doing dishes or something.”

“But we don’t fight about anything like that.” Sam dropped his phone next to him on the bed. “Do you think we should come up with something to make it more realistic? Just in case?”

“Nah. There must be real couples that don’t fight about stupid shit like that, right?” Not that Steve really knew. He’d had relationships before, sure, but none of them had made it to the cohabiting stage.

“I guess.” Sam’s phone buzzed. “Bucky’s running a bit late — he says he’ll just meet me at the VA. I’m gonna go ahead and go; I want to grab a bite to eat before the meeting.”

“Sounds good. I’ll probably be asleep before you get back; I’ve got an early meeting with a client tomorrow.”

“Alright.” Sam heaved himself off the bed and slid his phone into his pocket.

He was almost out of the room before Steve stopped him. “Hey Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really glad you and Bucky have become friends.” Steve pushed his glasses up his nose. “It’s just— it’s really good that he has you.”

“What can I say? You’ve got good taste in friends.” He walked to the doorway and then turned back, giving Steve one of those smiles he was sure could cure cancer if someone could just figure out a way to capture it. “I mean, you are friends with me.”

Sam was down the hallway and out the door before Steve could come up with a good comeback.

 

Because of their schedules, Steve didn’t see Sam again until about an hour before Nick Fury was supposed to arrive at the apartment. He had asked Bucky to make himself scarce, which was fine since he had plans with Natasha anyway, but it had been a weird conversation. Bucky wanted to know why Steve thought he shouldn’t be there, and Steve hadn’t really been able to give him an answer.

It just seemed to him like having Bucky there would complicate things in front of Nick. He couldn’t put his finger on why he felt that way, though, and it had bothered him all day. It wasn’t until he watched Bucky and Sam in the kitchen that afternoon that he realized what the problem was.

Bucky was cleaning up a few dishes before he left to meet Natasha and Sam was putting together a sandwich while telling him some story about something that had happened in class that day. It was a small room without much space to maneuver, but Bucky and Sam were moving around each other without ever colliding, looking totally in sync. They seemed to always just know where the other one was going to be.

If Nick came to interview Steve and Sam about their relationship and saw this, he would definitely be suspicious. He and Sam were close, but Steve was clumsy and awkward and never quite sure what to do with his hands; there was no way they looked like this together. With such a clear comparison to look at, the fact that Steve and Sam’s relationship was a complete sham would be obvious.

Bucky was out the door by the time Nick arrived promptly at 6:00pm. The man wasn’t any less intimidating in their apartment than he had been in Natasha’s office. In fact, Steve wasn’t even sure there was going to be enough space in their apartment for him; they weren’t exactly living like the characters on Friends.

“Good evening Mr. Rogers, Mr. Wilson.” Nick shook each of their hands in turn.

“Sam and Steve are just fine, Mr. Fury,” Sam said, effortlessly charming as usual.

“Well then, call me Nick.”

“Um, we’ll probably be the most comfortable in the kitchen, Mr.— Nick, I mean. Or do you need to see the rest of the place first? I guess we could give you a tour? I’m not sure exactly what you need.” Steve was rambling and wished he could get his mouth to just stop talking.

“A quick tour sounds like a good place to start.”

Steve led the way, showing Nick first to Bucky’s room and explaining who he was, before realizing that was probably unnecessary since the whole reason Nick was doing the home visit instead of Natasha was because she knew Bucky. He could feel his face flushing with embarrassment and he guided Nick past the bathroom and the kitchen and showed him the other bedroom.

“That’s really all there is. Sorry there’s not a whole lot of space.” Steve apologized as he led them all back to the kitchen.

“I’ve seen a lot worse, believe me. Hell, I’ve lived in worse more than once in my life.”

It took a bit of shuffling, but they finally got themselves settled at the table, Nick on one side and Steve wedged into the corner with Sam next to him. Sam gave him a reassuring smile and then grabbed his hand, linking their fingers together. It seemed so blatantly obvious Steve worried it would look forced, but thankfully Nick didn’t seem to notice.

“Alright, gentlemen. We’ve just got a few questions to go through and then I’ll be on my way. Just like before, the most important thing is that you’re completely honest. We’re not making any judgements about anyone’s relationship; we’re just trying to collect as much information as possible so we can look at any trends that emerge.”

“Of course.” Steve nodded. “What do you want to know?”

The questions started off pretty similar to the initial interview, just asking them to describe their relationship and things like that. Nick asked them about some of the journal activities they had been doing each week. Had they noticed any effect the journals had on them as individuals or on their relationship? Had they shared the journals with each other?

They hadn’t shared what they’d written, which worried Steve for a moment, but Nick assured them it was fine. It was completely up to the participants whether or not they shared what they wrote with their partner.

The questions shifted towards more of what it was like living together — how often did they fight, did having a roommate create any issues in their relationship, etc. Nick finished recording Sam’s response to a question about how they divided household duties and then looked across the table at them.

“And how often would you say you have sex?” He asked it like it was just another question, like there wasn’t anything uncomfortable about it. Which made sense, because it _was_ just another question. Or at least it was if you weren’t pretending to be in a relationship with your asexual roommate who was one of your best friends and also kind of happened to be the man you’d been comparing everyone else to since you met him.

Sam must have felt him tense up because he squeezed his hand before answering the question like it was no big deal. Because it wasn’t. God, he was so fucked.

“Only about once a week at most, wouldn’t you say, Steve? Sometimes less. My sex drive has been pretty low since I got out of the service and we’re both busy.” If Steve hadn’t know it was a lie, he never would have been able to guess.

“Uh yeah, once a week, I guess.”

“Does that ever cause conflict in your relationship?”

Steve startled at the question. “No!? If Sam doesn’t want to have sex, he doesn’t have to. I would never try to force him into anything he didn’t want or make him feel guilty for not wanting something I wanted. Anyone who would is a complete asshole.” Steve pulled his hand away from Sam’s and crossed his arms, glaring at Nick.

Nick seemed unfazed by his anger. “But certainly there must be times when you want to have sex and he doesn’t? How do you deal with those situations?”

Steve made his tone as icy as he could. “I have two hands, a box of toys, and a bottle of lube. I deal with it just fine.”

“Well, that’s very understanding of you. Not everyone would see things that way.” Nick jotted down a few more notes as he spoke.

“Anyone who’s a decent human being would,” Steve grumbled. Sam’s arm came up around his shoulders and squeezed.

“I got lucky — Steve’s really understanding about all of it.” Sam’s voice sounded odd and he was looking at Steve like he had grown three heads or something. Steve squirmed a bit under that gaze, but didn’t look away until Nick broke in. 

“Well, I think I’ve got about all I need for today, unless there’s any questions you have for me?”

Steve managed to tear his eyes away. “I’m good. Sam?”

“No questions from me. If you’re ready, I’ll walk you out.” Nick and Sam both got up from the table and Steve could hear the rumble of their conversation as they said goodbye at the door of the apartment. He stayed in his chair for a moment, wondering why the world felt so off-kilter all of a sudden, then shoved the thought away and took out his phone. He was already busy scrolling through GrubHub when Sam got back.

“You in the mood for Thai or Mediterranean tonight?”

Sam didn’t answer right away and when Steve looked up at him, he couldn’t quite read the expression on his face. It was gone before he could ask.

“Thai sounds good. And don’t forget to ask for extra fish sauce.”

“Do I ever forget your extra fish sauce?”

Sam leaned against the wall and smiled down at him. “No, no you don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi [on tumblr](http://i-will-not-be-caged.tumblr.com)!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to pringlesaremydivision and Ragazza_Guasto for the read throughs and the whole squad for the encouragement. You guys are the best *kisses*

The weeks after Fury’s visit passed in a blur. Steve was volunteering his time on a big fundraising campaign for a local LGBT youth shelter, in addition to his regular freelance work, and Sam was busy preparing for midterms in most of his classes. One professor had decided a group project would be better than a midterm, though, and Sam was about one more disastrous work session away from calling in some contacts and making her disappear.

“Why are there group projects in _graduate school_? We’re all adults. If we don’t know how to play well with others by this point, we never will.” Sam was already ranting when he walked in the door of the apartment and he wasn’t even sure anyone was home. He threw his bag down and stomped towards the kitchen.

“What did they do this time?” Steve called from the bedroom.

“Same old, same old. I’m so tired of white kids from the suburbs taking urban education classes so they can save the world.” He collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs and laid his head on his arms. 

Steve came out carrying his laptop. “Is that really fair, Sam?”

He answered without lifting his head. “It is absolutely fair. Most of them are only taking the class because they have grand plans to go teach in the ghetto and save the poor brown and black kids and someday maybe even have Lifetime make a movie about them.” 

Sam waved off Steve’s protest before he could even make it. “I know, I know, I’m generalizing a whole group of people and I shouldn’t do that, blah blah blah, but it was a very long, very frustrating day. Let me have this one.”

“Sure thing.” Sam was surprised Steve had let it go so easily, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“And hey,” Steve continued, “I bet being in a group with you and all your wisdom will make them think differently about some things.” His hand landed gently on Sam’s forearm. It was warm and comforting and a few of the muscles in Sam’s shoulders unclenched. “You’re already teaching people, and they’re not even your students.”

Sam sat up, but Steve left his hand where it was. His hair was mussed where he had been running his hands through it while he worked and he must have taken a break to sketch at some point because there was a charcoal smudge on his nose where he had pushed his glasses back into place. Sam found himself smiling despite how exhausted he felt.

“Thanks, Steve.”

Steve pulled his hand back and turned his attention back to his computer screen. Sam tried not to be disappointed.

“Any time.” Steve said lightly. 

 

Natasha came over that evening with her copy of the new _Star Wars_ and insisted that all four of them have a movie night. Sam tried to protest (he really needed to work on this project), but Natasha wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Well, why don’t you just make yourself at home,” Bucky teased as Natasha climbed up onto the loft bed.

“Don’t mind if I do.” She started rearranging the pillows and blankets to be more to her liking. “You and Sam go make popcorn and get drinks for me and Steve.”

Sam started to warn her that he didn’t think they had any popcorn when a box flew over the edge of the bed and smacked him in the face. “Well okay then. Bucky and I will go make popcorn.”

In the kitchen, Bucky did his best to open the box of popcorn without destroying it. He was getting better at using the new arm, but the fine motor skills could still be a bit tricky at times.

Sam was bent over, rummaging through the fridge to see if they had any more of the beer Steve liked when Bucky spoke. He was keeping his voice low enough that the microwave would cover his words.

“By the way, Sam, Natasha asked me if everything was okay with you and Steve.”

Sam stood up quickly, almost banging his head on the edge of the fridge. “What?”

“Yeah, she said y’all have seemed off lately. Kind of standoffish with each other. You may want to fix that tonight.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks.” The microwave dinged and Bucky separated the popcorn into bowls.

“No problem, man.” He turned and headed back to the bedroom, carefully balancing the bowls in both hands.

Sam stood there for a moment, forgetting what he was supposed to be doing. He thought back over the past few weeks. Bucky was right; other than the brief moment in the kitchen earlier that day, Steve had barely touched him lately. There hadn’t been any of the casual touches, the bumped shoulders, the sitting close on the futon that he had become used to.

“Hey, slowpoke, where’s our drinks?” Natasha yelled from the bedroom.

“Yeah, hurry up! I want to watch Rey kick some ass already,” Steve added.

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’! Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Sam grabbed the drinks and tried to act as normal as possible when he got back to the bedroom. He handed Natasha and Bucky their drinks and then flopped down onto the futon next to Steve.

“There you go, sweetheart.” Sam hoped his tone came across as playful as he intended. “Now you have everything you need to fully enjoy Rey kicking ass.”

“Thank you. And you have everything you need to lust after John Boyega for the next two hours.”

Sam gasped in offense. “What? How dare you! Like I would spend my time lusting after him when I have you right here!”

“Uh huh. Sure. That’s why you have the picture of him in that purple suit as your lock screen right now.”

“Both of you shut up before I come down there and make you,” Bucky threatened. “We’re starting the movie now.”

Natasha reached over to flick the lights off, her brow furrowing when she saw them from her position leaning over the edge of the bed. Sam noticed that Steve had shifted so that there was at least a foot of space separating them. He reached over and pulled Steve closer, settling his arm around Steve’s shoulders.

He saw Steve’s eyes widen as he leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Sorry if this is uncomfortable for you. Bucky told me Natasha thought we seemed standoffish. Just play along until she leaves?”

Steve swallowed and nodded, not meeting his eyes. “Yeah, sure. I get it.”

“I can hear you whispering down there.” Bucky’s voice drifted down from above them. “You can be gross and disgustingly in love with each other after the movie.”

Steve tensed for a moment and then glared at the bottom of the bed. “Shut up, Bucky.”

Then he curled his legs up beneath him, scooted closer, and leaned his head against Sam’s shoulder. Sam was glad he’d already seen the movie twice because he wasn’t sure he would have been able to follow it otherwise.

 

The credits rolled and Natasha turned the lights back on, causing all of them to groan. Sam nudged Steve into a sitting position, then stood up and stretched.

“Well, I’m gonna head to bed. Some of us have to get up for class in the morning.”

“Sucks to be you.” Bucky grinned at him from where he lay with his head in Natasha’s lap, her fingers running through his hair. Sam flipped him off in return.

“I think I’m gonna stay up for a bit, get a little work done.” Steve looked down at his hands, then up at Sam. He pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Give me a kiss?”

Sam froze. Steve flicked his eyes up towards Natasha. Oh, oh right. “Of course, baby.”

He leaned down towards Steve and licked his lips. His eyes met Steve’s, questioning, and Steve nodded. He closed his eyes and the distance between them.

Sam had meant for it be a quick kiss, little more than a peck, just a simple goodnight. But once he was there, he couldn’t quite bring himself to stop. Steve’s lips were warm and soft against his own. He wished he could do more, taste the salt from the popcorn and the bitterness of the beer, wished he could taste _Steve_. 

He was just beginning to panic, worried that he had lingered too long, when he felt Steve’s hand come to rest on the side of his face, his thumb gently stroke Sam’s cheekbone. There was the barest increase in pressure, and then Steve pulled back, his hand skimming down Sam’s arm to grasp his hand.

Sam opened his eyes and Steve gave him a small half-smile. “G’night, Sam.” Steve squeezed his hand, reminding Sam that he was supposed to be leaving the room.

“G’night, Steve.” He straightened up and left the room, forcing himself not to turn back and look at Steve.

Fire was singing through his veins, a rush of adrenaline like he hadn’t felt since he was in Afghanistan in the heat of battle. He got ready for bed on autopilot, replaying the kiss in his head over and over and over.

He lay in bed, shaking hands pressed to his eyes, and focused on breathing in and out, in and out. It had been so long since he had felt like this. He hadn’t wanted to feel like this. He had known better, had known that if he wasn’t careful his crush on Steve would become so much more. His stomach was tying itself in knots, the wanting and not-wanting warring inside of him.

God, he was terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi [on tumblr](http://i-will-not-be-caged.tumblr.com)!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to pringlesaremydivision for the read through, and to everyone who's been following along and leaving such lovely comments. Y'all are the best!

Steve sat at his computer, staring at the blank document. He switched back over to the email from Natasha that contained the journal prompt for that week.

_Reminisce about the past: think back to when you first met your partner. What was it that drew you to them? Why did you find them attractive? How have those feelings changed and grown over the course of your relationship?_

He still remembered the night he had met Sam, mostly because he had made a giant fool of himself. His relationship with Sharon had just ended, and some old art school friends had convinced him to go to a club to try and get his mind off of things.

 

“Come on, Steve,” Maria’s voice was demanding even over the phone. “It’s Saturday night. We’re taking you to dinner and then out dancing. You are not spending another night moping in your apartment.”

“I have not been moping!”

“Sure you haven’t. I’ll be at your apartment in fifteen minutes. And if you don’t answer the door, I’ll just pick the lock. You know I can.” Maria hung up without waiting for an answer and Steve looked around at the apartment. There were dirty mugs and take out containers littered around the room and he was still wearing his pajamas. The pajamas he had first put on three days ago.

Okay, maybe he had been moping a little.

He got up, showered, and put at least a little bit of thought into his outfit. He didn’t particularly care how he looked that evening, but he didn’t want to give Maria any more ammunition than she already had.

Dinner was fun — his friends were hilarious and they had always been good at getting him out of his head and helping him to lighten up. He had planned on trying to beg off when they headed to the club, but by the time they finished their meal he was feeling a lot better. Sure, he was kind of a terrible dancer, but he didn’t really want to head back to his sad apartment either.

They had been at the club for about an hour when Steve saw him. He was just emerging from the mass of bodies on the dance floor, skin glistening with sweat under the flashing lights. Steve watched from his place on the balcony as the man sauntered over to the bar, every movement of his body loose and fluid. He gulped. He knew he should stop staring, but he couldn’t help himself.

“That is one damn fine man,” Gabe said beside him, making sure to stand on Steve’s left side so he could hear. “You should go talk to him.”

Steve turned at that. “What? No! No, I couldn’t.”

Gabe just laughed. “Why not? He’s attractive, you’re attractive, what’s the problem? Just go ask him to dance.”

Steve looked down to see the man talking with another man at the bar. The second man, who was just as attractive as the first, threw his head back and laughed. “I can’t. Look, he’s with someone.” 

Gabe studied the two men. “Nah, they’re not together. They’re just friends.” Steve looked at him skeptically. “Watch — they stand with space between them, they barely touch each other, and when they do it’s more playful than flirtatious. They’re not together.”

Steve watched as the first man continued to make his friend crack up with laughter. He could see Gabe’s point. But still…

“I don’t know.”

“I’m gonna have to bring out the big guns, aren’t I?” Gabe quirked an eyebrow at him and crossed his arms. “Fine. I _dare_ you to go talk to the gorgeous man and ask him to dance.”

“That’s not fair!”

“I mean, you don’t have to.” Gabe shrugged his shoulders. “You can admit you’re afraid and I’ll drop it. Let you continue lurking on the balcony.”

“I’m not afraid! It’s just—”

“Just what? All you have to do is talk to him, maybe dance a bit, have a little fun. You don’t have to take him home at the end of the night.” Steve swallowed audibly. “Unless of course you want to.”

Steve glared at Gabe. “Shut up, asshole.” Gabe just stared right back at him until Steve rolled his eyes and gave in. “Okay, fine, you win. I’m going.”

Gabe clapped him on the back. “There’s the Steve we all know and love. Go on now, have some fun!”

Steve made his way down the stairs and then scanned the crowd to see if the man had moved. He hadn’t; he was still leaning on the bar next to his friend, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. He watched as the man took a sip and then licked his lips. It took all his strength to not moan at the sight. God, he wanted to be the one to do that.

He squared his shoulders and approached the two men. “Um, excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I was watching you from up there and my friends dared to me to come talk to you.” He tried to smile, but knew that his nervousness had to be written all over his face.

The man turned to look at him and smiled, showing off a gap between his front teeth. “Is that so?”

“Um, yeah, they’re kind of obnoxious like that.” The man continued smiling at him. Steve was pretty sure he wasn’t buying the story, but he offered his hand anyway. “I’m Steve.”

“Sam, and this is Jim. Nice to meet you.” Sam’s hand was big and warm, calloused but gentle. “So this dare — were you just supposed to talk to me, or did it involve dancing at all?”

“Uh, I think technically I was supposed to ask, but, um— wait, are you asking me?”

Sam laughed at him, but it wasn’t mean-spirited. “Yeah, I am.”

“Oh. Well okay then.” Steve’s smile finally felt natural. “I have to warn you though, I’m a pretty terrible dancer.”

“Well, I happen to be a fantastic dancer. I’ll take care of you.” Sam winked, then grabbed his hand and led him out onto the dance floor.

Dancing with Sam was easy. Normally he was so worried about what do with his hands and whether or not he was actually following the beat, but none of that mattered with Sam. If Sam wanted his hand somewhere else, he moved it. If the beat changed, the hands on his hips guided him through it. Steve felt light and floaty, even though it had been awhile since his last drink.

Eventually Sam broke the spell and asked him a question. Steve couldn’t hear him, so he pointed to the hearing aid and then gestured to his good ear. Sam didn’t miss a beat, just leaned down and repeated his question.

“Want to take a break? Maybe talk for a bit?”

Steve nodded and Sam led them back towards the bar. They grabbed another round of drinks and then headed to a quieter part of the club, squeezed together on one of the low padded benches. It turned out talking to Sam was as easy as dancing with him and Steve lost track of time as they shared stories about Steve’s graphic design clients and Sam’s time in the military and recent adventures in graduate school.

“You know, I’m really glad you decided to take your friends’ dare.”

Steve blushed and hoped it wasn’t too obvious in the dim lighting. “Yeah?”

“I had actually seen you earlier, but you disappeared before I could get to you.”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah. I saw you warn that girl that someone had slipped something into her drink and thought to myself, that is a person I want to get to know. You being fucking gorgeous didn’t hurt either.”

Steve’s blush deepened. “Um, thanks.” He was trying to get better at accepting compliments. He looked up into Sam’s smiling face and gathered his courage. “Do you, maybe— do you want to get out of here? Maybe go to my place?”

He held his breath as Sam’s face did something complicated that he couldn’t quite interpret. Sam looked down at where his hands were fidgeting with his glass. “It’s been really fun hanging out with you, Steve, and I like you a lot, but um…” Sam paused and Steve’s stomach plummeted. He was such an idiot. Of course this guy didn’t want to go home with him; he could probably have anyone he wanted.

Sam took a deep breath and continued, breaking into Steve’s spiral of self-deprecation. “I’m asexual, so I don’t really do that kind of thing.”

Sam wouldn’t meet his eyes. Shit, Steve must have made him so uncomfortable. “I’m, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to— I’ll just—” Steve stood to leave, but Sam reached up and grabbed his wrist.

“No, no, don’t apologize. I’ve had a really great time tonight and I’d love to see you again.” When Sam realized he wasn’t going to run away, he let go of his wrist, pulled his phone out of his pocket, and held it out to Steve. “Here, put your number in. I’ll give you a call sometime?”

“Yeah, sure.” Steve took the phone and entered his number, not entirely sure why Sam even wanted it. “It’s getting late — I really should get back to my friends.”

“Sure, okay.” Sam nodded. “It was really, really great to meet you, Steve. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Steve gave him a small wave, and then headed back out into the club to find Gabe and Maria.

“So, how’d it go?” Gabe elbowed him teasingly when he found them again.

“It was fine. He was a really nice guy.”

Maria and Gabe exchanged a look. “Did you have fun?” Maria seemed worried.

He gave them a forced smile and hoped it was convincing. “Yeah, I did. Thanks for dragging me out of my apartment. You guys are the best.”

“Yes, yes we are.” Gabe slipped an arm around his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

 

Steve was surprised when Sam called him the very next day and asked him if he wanted to meet for coffee. He had mostly convinced himself that Sam had just been giving him an excuse and hadn’t really expected to hear from him.

They didn’t live too far from each other, it turned out, so they agreed to meet up at a coffee shop near Steve’s apartment. It was only when Steve was sitting there waiting that he realized he should probably Google asexuality so that he didn’t come across as a complete idiot or do anything to make Sam uncomfortable. He pulled out his phone, but he only had time to glance at one definition - people who don’t feel sexual attraction - before Sam arrived and he hurriedly shut his phone off and put it away.

The conversation started out a little stilted, but Steve relaxed as they talked and soon enough it was as easy as it had been the night before. Sam was a great guy, and Steve figured that being friends with him was better than nothing, even if he was a little upset it would never be anything more. 

Soon enough they were parting ways on the sidewalk. “I’m really glad you called. I think I’m gonna like being friends with you.” Steve gave Sam his best, friendliest smile.

Sam smiled back, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, me too. You can never have too many friends.”

Steve watched him walk away and shoved his attraction deep down inside of himself. He liked Sam; he wanted Sam to be a part of his life. If that meant ignoring his own feelings until they went away, well, that was a small price to pay.

 

And that’s exactly what Steve had done ever since. It had been hard sometimes, especially after they moved in together, but Sam was one of his best friends. He wasn’t going to risk that just because he couldn’t quite get over his stupid crush.

It was why he had been kicking himself all day over that kiss. How could he have been such an idiot? Sure, maybe it had made Natasha less suspicious, but Sam had barely looked at him since. He hoped he hadn’t screwed things up permanently. Those few seconds may have been among the best in his entire life, but he would regret them forever if they cost him Sam.

Steve shook himself and sighed, turning his attention back to the journal entry he was supposed to be writing. He had just finished typing up a modified version of the story when Sam came home.

“Hey man, how was your day?” Sam moved past him to the sink, carefully avoiding any physical contact, which was no small feat in their tiny kitchen.

“Pretty good. Just finishing up a few little things.”

“Cool. Are you busy tomorrow night? Sarah and Jody invited us over for dinner.”

“That sounds great. It’s been awhile since I’ve gotten to see them.”

“Sarah said the same thing. I swear, sometimes I think she likes you more than she likes me.”

“Not a chance, Sam.” Sam finally looked at him then. The smile he gave him reminded Steve a lot of the one from outside that coffee shop so long ago. His heart clenched at the thought that he might never get Sam’s real smile back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi [on tumblr](http://i-will-not-be-caged.tumblr.com)!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gave me fits, so huge huge HUGE thanks to pringlesaremydivision and SD_Ryan for the encouragement and the help. If it all works, it's because of them; if it doesn't, it's because I couldn't stop fiddling with it.

“I realized while I was doing my journal the other day that we haven’t figured out what we’re going to do about Natasha when the study ends.”

“Hm?” Sam had only been half-listening, caught up in his own thoughts about the amount of work he still had to finish this weekend.

“It’s just, she’s not going to disappear, you know? She’s Bucky’s friend. And we can’t just keep pretending we’re together forever.”

“Can we deal with that later? We’ve still got time and I really don’t have the energy right now.” It came out sharper than Sam had intended.

Steve adjusted his hearing aid and fixed his attention on the floor of the train. “Yeah, sure. No problem.”

Sam sighed. “Look, man, I’m sorry. It’s just been a really long week.”

“Nah, I get it. It’s cool.” Steve still seemed uncomfortable, but there wasn’t really anything else Sam could do about it. They spent the rest of the train ride to Sarah’s in silence.

 

“Uncle Sam! Uncle Sam!” As soon as the apartment door opened, Sam found himself with an armful of wiggling six-year-old.

“Jody, my man! How’ve you been?”

“I lost a tooth!” Jody gave him a huge grin, showing off the gap in his bottom teeth.

“Would you look at that! Did you save it to put under your pillow for the tooth fairy?”

“Yep!” Jody nodded excitedly. “Last time I only got a quarter, but Nicki got a whole dollar for her tooth, so I hope I get a dollar too.”

Sam looked past Jody to see Sarah shaking her head. “That seems fair to me, bud. I’m sure the tooth fairy will do right by you this time.”

“Alright, Jody. Let go of your uncle and go wash up for dinner.” Sam set Jody down and he ran off into the apartment. Sarah pulled Sam into a strong hug.

“You know Uncle Sam’s gonna be the one providing that dollar, right?”

Sam laughed. “Sure thing, sis.”

Sarah released Sam and turned to give Steve a hug as well. “Steve! It’s been too long.”

“Good to see you, Sarah. Thanks for inviting me.”

“Of course! Alright, enough standing around in the doorway. Come on in and let’s eat. I bet you two are just dying for a decent meal.”

“Hey now, I can cook just as well as you can!” Sam protested.

“Sure you can, but do you actually do it, or do you just get take out every night?”

Sam looked over at Steve, hoping for some backup, but Steve just shrugged. “We do eat a lot of take out.”

The dinner was delicious, of course, and it made Sam feel a little guilty about how much he hadn’t been cooking. There were logical reasons for it — he was busy and their kitchen was small — but he couldn’t help feeling like it was just another area of his life where he was screwing things up lately.

They were just about done eating when Sarah started in on him. “You seeing anyone these days, Sam? I know you never called the guy from my office I introduced you to.”

Sam glared at Sarah and finished chewing his bite of chicken. 

“No, I’m not. You know how busy I am right now.”

“I know how many excuses you have.” Sarah shook her fork at him. “There’s always going to be something in the way if you want there to be.”

Jody saved him from having to respond. “Mama, can I be excused? And can Steve draw me a story?”

“Yes, you may, but you’ll have to ask Steve about the story. He may not be finished with his dinner yet.”

“Oh, I’m good. You got some paper and a pencil somewhere around here, Jody?”

Jody hopped off his chair and grabbed Steve’s hand. “Yeah! Come with me and I’ll show you!” He dragged Steve over the living room.

Sam watched from the kitchen as they settled onto the floor next to the coffee table. Jody started narrating a story about a superhero with giant wings so that Steve could draw it for him. Steve was listening raptly, hair flopping into his eyes, artist hands skimming over the paper as he did his best to keep up with the tale Jody was spinning. 

“And that right there is why you aren’t seeing anybody,” Sarah said, careful to keep her voice low.

Sam looked over at her. “What? No, that’s not it.”

“Mmhmm. Don’t try to lie to me Sam. Or to yourself. It’s written all over your face and it has been since the day you met him.”

Sam pushed his leftover greens around his plate. “I know, I know. But it’ll never happen.”

“How do you know that? Have you ever even told him? Ever tried?”

“You know I haven’t, and you know exactly why.” Sam sighed. “He made what he wanted clear from the very beginning. Why set myself up to get hurt?”

“Is this you _not_ hurting?” Sam didn’t say anything, and Sarah reached across the table to take his hand. “Look, Sam, I know you may not want to hear this, but I can’t watch you do with Steve what you did with Riley.”

Sam tried to pull back, but Sarah held on. “I know you had your reasons for not speaking up then, but it ended up tearing you apart. I don’t want to see you go through that again.”

Sam looked up at her then. “But what if I say something and I lose him too?”

“What if you say something and you _don’t_?”

Sam didn’t have an answer for that. He didn’t have an answer for any of this. Things had been fine before he brought home that stupid flyer. Sure, he had been pathetically pining after Steve, but it had been manageable. Now everything was off balance and spinning out of control.

“I just want you to be happy, whatever that looks like.”

He squeezed Sarah’s hand. “I know. Thank you.”

“Mama, mama, look what Steve drew for me!” Jody came running over and Sarah let go of Sam’s hand so that she could haul him into her lap. “That’s the Falcon. He’s a superhero and he’s saving those people from the burning building.”

“Oh wow, look at that! You wanna go hang it up on the fridge?”

“Yeah!”

“You go do that, and then it’s time to say goodnight to Steve and Uncle Sam. You need to get to bed.”

Any potential whining was quickly quelled by a look from Sarah. Jody gave Sam and Steve hugs and they said their goodbyes.

 

Once they were on the train, Steve kept shifting in the seat next to him, eyes glued to the floor, pushing his glasses up his nose and fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie.

“Spit it out, Steve.”

Steve fiddled with his hearing aid before finally speaking. He still didn’t look up. “Doesn’t Sarah know that you’re ace?”

Well, that wasn’t what Sam was expecting. “Yeah, of course she does.”

Steve studied his fingernails. “Then why was she giving you shit about dating?”

“Probably because she’s tired of hearing me complain about my lack of a love life when I won’t actually take any of her advice.”

Steve looked up at him then, the line between his eyebrows deepening behind the bridge of his glasses. “I guess I just— I thought that wasn’t really something you wanted.”

Sam sighed. It had been a long day and he didn’t really want to have this conversation right now, especially not with Steve. Definitely not while they were in the middle of this relationship study mess and his feelings seemed ready to spill out of him at any moment. Looked like he wasn’t going to get a choice about that, though.

“Well, it is. Being asexual means I’m not sexually attracted to anyone, not that I want to be single forever.”

“But— I thought— you’ve never—” Steve looked like his entire understanding of the universe was collapsing, but Sam really didn’t have the energy. Steve could make this all about him and his confusion if he wanted to, but that didn’t mean Sam had to listen to it.

“Yeah, well, you never asked.” Sam tried to soften his tone. “Look, there are a lot of reasons I haven’t dated anyone since we’ve met, some of them good and some of them shitty. Sarah was just pointing out that most of the good reasons don’t apply anymore and all that’s left are the shitty ones.”

“Oh.” Steve looked like he had more to say, but he didn’t go on and Sam didn’t ask.

 

They lay in bed that night, the silence a tangible weight pressing Sam into the mattress. 

Just as Sam was about to drift off, Steve broke it with a whisper. “Bucky’s bi too, you know.” 

“Huh?” Sam grunted. Why was Steve telling him that?

“I just— I thought you might want to know. Just in case after all this—I mean, we would have to figure out what do about Natasha, but if you wanted—” Steve trailed off. “I just thought you should know.”

Wait— Steve thought he wanted _Bucky_? Was that what all this was about? Sam rolled over, wanting to make Steve clarify, but he had turned his back and was already asleep.

Sam should wake him up, get all of this out in the open now. Make sure that Steve knew he wasn’t interested in Bucky, confess his feelings and let the chips fall where they may.

He almost did it. He really did. But Steve looked so peaceful, sleeping there next to Sam, wrapped in the blankets. It would be rude to wake him up. He’d let Steve sleep, then find some way to set the record straight in the morning.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to SD_Ryan for the read through and for being a super encouraging cheerleader while I flailed and floundered. You're the best, darling.
> 
> Also thanks to everyone on Tumblr and here who offered hilarious nickname options. I opted to keep it simple, but y'all definitely made me laugh.

Three more days. Steve just had to get through three more days, and then this ridiculous study would be over and he and Sam could figure out how to get things back to normal. At least, he hoped they would get back to normal.

He hadn’t even really seen Sam since they had dinner at Sarah’s. Sam had spent the rest of the weekend in the library working on a paper for one of his classes and had been in and out of the apartment only sporadically during the beginning of the week. Steve had overheard him telling Bucky that he was heading to the VA on Tuesday evening, even though that wasn’t his usual session. He figured that maybe it had something to do with how restlessly Sam had been sleeping lately.

Steve was worried. Sam seemed to be getting more and more stressed as his semester went on and Steve had no idea how to help him. Things that normally would have helped didn’t seem to be welcome. He was trying not to paranoid, but he couldn’t get rid of the niggling feeling that Sam was avoiding him. 

Mostly he just missed his friend.

Steve had just wrapped up a few projects and had a bit of a lull in his work on Wednesday, so he went into the city with Bucky for his appointment at Stark Tower. Normally Sam went with him on Wednesdays, but he wasn’t available this week.

The inside of Stark Tower was as impressive as the outside, although much less of a monstrosity. According to Bucky, that was because Stark had designed the outside, but Pepper Potts was in charge of everything else. Apparently she had much better taste.

Steve did his best to stay out of the way while Stark ran Bucky through a variety of exercises testing the prosthetic arm. At first he had attempted to just stay in the lobby, maybe grab a coffee, but then Stark had started talking and before he had even realized what was happening, he was standing in the middle of the lab or workroom or whatever it was. He amused himself with looking at the various schematics and prototypes around the room, fingers itching for a pencil. 

A loud thunk and a yelp from Bucky caught his attention.

“Well, that’s an interesting malfunction.” Stark didn’t seem as concerned as Steve thought he should be, but apparently this was a pretty common occurrence because Bucky just rolled his eyes and caught the screwdriver that Stark chucked in his direction.

“See what you can do, Buckaroo. I’m gonna go find some coffee.”

Bucky got to work, shifting some of the metal plates in his arm and poking at things with the screwdriver. Steve settled on a stool on the other side of the workbench and watched for a while, then awkwardly blurted out the thing he hadn’t been able to get out of his head all week but had been desperately trying to avoid blurting out awkwardly.

“Um, so, we— um, Sam and I— we haven’t really figured out what we’re doing about Natasha, but after we do, um, if you wanted—, I mean, it would be okay with me if you, you know…”

Bucky looked up from where he was tinkering with his arm. “Was I supposed to follow any of that? Because I didn’t follow any of that.”

Steve sighed, wishing he didn’t have to actually spell this out for Bucky. “Sorry. I’m just trying to say that it’d be cool if, um, if you and Sam wanted to start something after we ‘break up’ or whatever.” He avoided meeting Bucky’s eyes and instead concentrated collecting the screws lying on the workbench and lining them up.

Bucky put down the screwdriver. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I mean, you guys have been spending a lot of time hanging out and stuff, and I think you would be really good together.” One screw kept spinning away and he tried to nudge it back in line with the others.

“You are so fucking dense. Sam and I would be _terrible_ together. I don’t _do_ relationships. How have you not figured this out yet?”

Steve shrugged. “Well, sure, I know you haven’t really had a serious relationship before, but Sam is special. It’s different when it’s someone that you really care about and I think if you just gave it a shot—”

“Steve, quit fidgeting and look at me.” Steve dropped the screws and looked up. Bucky continued, his brow furrowed and his tone serious. “Sam is a great guy, but I have zero desire to be in a relationship with him. I don’t want to be in a relationship with anyone. I mean, sure, maybe someday there’ll be someone that makes me want all that, but it hasn’t happened yet and it seems pretty fucking unlikely to me.”

“I just want you to be happy, Buck.”

Bucky sighed. “Do you want me to be happy, or do you want me to be with somebody? Because you’re acting like those are the same thing, Steve.”

“I guess I just don’t understand.”

Bucky stood up quickly, sending his stool rolling across the room. “Of course you don’t understand; you never actually _ask!_ ”

“What am I supposed to say?’ Steve looked up at him, hands out to his sides, pleading. “How do you just ask a question like that? I can’t just walk up to people and ask ‘hey, are you looking for a romantic relationship anytime in the future?’ I’d get punched in the face!”

“So what? You used to get punched in the face all the time!”

Steve glared at him, and Bucky softened. “No, you don’t walk up to a stranger and ask them something like that, but me? Someone you’ve known basically your entire life? Why the fuck wouldn’t you be able to ask me?”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know. It just seems like the kind of thing I should already know. Like, if we’re really that close I shouldn’t _have_ to ask you things like that.”

Bucky collected his stool and rolled over to Steve. He slung his right arm around Steve and pulled him into a hug. “That’s not actually how friendship works, punk. It’s not like you know someone for a certain number of years and then get mind-reading powers.”

They sat quietly for a few minutes, Bucky’s arm a comforting weight across Steve’s shoulders. He tried to put his thoughts in order.

“The very first night I met Sam, I asked him back to my place. He told me he was asexual and turned me down. I spent all this time thinking he rejected me, that he didn’t want a relationship, and then the other night I find out that he does. But he still hasn’t said anything about wanting a relationship with _me_.”

Bucky doesn’t seem fazed by the change of subject. “He’s probably been scared.”

“Sam? Scared? Of me?”

“Well, yeah. You can be a pretty intimidating guy.” Steve scoffed, but Bucky just smiled. “You have all these great ideals, but they’re not just talk; you actually back up the things you say. You’re completely unselfish, almost to a fault, and you tackle everything you do with a frankly ridiculous amount of passion. And you expect the people around you to be the same way, which can be a lot to try to live up to. Being friends with a guy like that is a lot safer than trying to date a guy like that.”

Steve leaned against the workbench, head in his hands. “What am I gonna do, Buck?”

Bucky’s hand moved to the middle of Steve’s back. “Well, you could always try this newfangled thing called _talking to him._ I hear it’s all the rage with hipsters these days.”

Steve lifted his head just enough to glare at Bucky out of the corner of his eye. “Jerk.”

“You know I’m right.”

“Yeah, I know you’re right. Doesn’t make you any less of jerk, though.”

“Whatever you say, punk.”

“Well, gentleman, I hate to interrupt what appears to be a touching Hallmark moment, but have you figured out what’s making my tech so testy today?” Steve scrambled to move out of the way, but Stark just waved him back onto his stool. “Stay, stay. You’re fine where you are — it’s not like you take up much space. Well, Buckster?”

“Sorry, Tony. I got a bit distracted.”

Stark flipped a screwdriver nimbly in his hand. “Of course you did. I gotta do everything around here, don’t I? It’s a good thing I like you.” He dragged Bucky’s stool down the workbench, almost knocking him off of it. “Alright, let’s see what’s going on in here.”

 

After Stark finally finished working on his arm, Bucky insisted that they go out to dinner, and then dinner turned into drinks with a few of the guys from the VA that Bucky had gotten to know. By the time they got home, Sam was already asleep, his school work strewn over the desk.

Steve didn’t think he’d be falling asleep any time soon, so he grabbed his laptop and settled at the kitchen table. His conversation with Bucky kept spinning through his mind as he roamed various corners of the internet searching for a distraction. 

By the time his eyes finally started drooping, he had made a decision: as soon as all this fake-dating business was resolved, he would sit down with Sam and ask him what he wanted. He wasn’t going to be the kind of person who was afraid to take a chance; he was going to take that leap and trust he was strong enough to survive whatever happened next.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to pringlesaremydivision for the read through and to everyone who has been cheering me on with this fic. I think you're gonna like this one :)

Sam had gone to sleep after dinner with Sarah fully intending to talk to Steve in the morning, but had woken up panting and sweating from the worst nightmare he’d had in months. He had slid carefully out of bed and gone for a run to try and shake loose the echoes of gunfire and smoke and Riley that were rattling around in his head.

The next few days were awful. He had let the stress of graduate school and everything with Steve pile up, and now he found himself buried underneath it, desperately trying not to be crushed. He spent the weekend slogging through his schoolwork, everything taking three times as long because he couldn’t concentrate.

On Monday he made himself call Jim and go to dinner. Jim reminded him that times like this were to be expected, that recovery wasn’t a straight line, that it was tough and shitty, but he shouldn’t beat himself up about it. It was good to hear, and Sam did his best to believe it.

On Tuesday he popped into a group meeting at the VA, more because he knew he should than because he wanted to. He was glad he went afterwards though; it was nice to be around people who understood, but even more than that he had been able to encourage a few of the newer vets. He needed the reminder that he wasn’t the only one with problems, and it felt good to help in whatever way he could.

On Wednesday he skipped out on his usual trip to Stark Tower with Bucky to try and catch up on his observation hours. He thought about heading to Sarah’s again for dinner and a listening ear, but couldn’t muster the energy for the trip. Instead he ate the abomination that was Bucky’s microwavable mac and cheese, tried to get some work done, and passed out around 9:30pm.

On Thursday he woke up feeling rested for a change and with his arms wrapped around Steve again. He let himself enjoy it for a few minutes, even though he knew he shouldn’t. Soon enough, though, the guilt started to creep in and he slipped out of bed as gently and quietly as possible.

He argued with himself while he showered and got dressed and ate his cereal and brushed his teeth and packed his things back into his bag. On the train on his way to class, he texted Sarah.

_I need a favor_

**On a scale of Easter service choir rehearsal to your junior prom, how big?**

_Hahaha - nowhere near either of those_

**Okay shoot**

_Text me tonight and ask me if I’ve talked to Steve?_

_And if I say no, do it again every night until I say yes?_

**Ooooo permission to nag??? I thought you were asking *me* for a favor**

_Well the favor may come later when I need to come cry on your couch_

**Pretty sure that’s not gonna be necessary**

**But I’ll save a spot for you on the couch just in case**

_Thanks_

He considered for a moment, then sent one more text.

_He thinks I want Bucky_

**I told you he was an idiot white boy**

_I know, I know_

**Proud of you, little brother**

**Good luck!**

Sam switched over to his music and turned on Trouble Man. He closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. No turning back now.

 

His classes served as a nice distraction and Sam had never been more thankful for his ability to narrow his focus to the problem right in front of him. He gave himself over fully to the continuing debate among his classmates about direct instruction and inquiry learning and constructivist theory. He went to the library and cranked out another 5 page paper about the most recent classroom management trends. He even finished filling out the online questionnaire for his internship placement next semester.

It was a productive day and Sam felt like he had regained some of the balance he had lost earlier in the week. The pit of fear in his stomach hadn’t disappeared, but it wasn’t the roiling terror of the weekend’s nightmares. This was the pulsing throb of adrenaline, the cresting of the first big hill of a roller coaster, the moment before he threw himself out of an airplane. This was fear he could use.

He opened the door to the apartment and almost immediately Steve was in front of him, hair mussed and glasses slipping down his nose and bare feet sticking out from the bottom of his jeans. It took him a minute to realize Steve was actually saying something.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said I’m glad we’re finally here at the same time. Have you looked at the journal assignment for this week?”

Sam threw his bag on the floor and headed down the hall towards the kitchen. “No, not yet. Why?”

“It’s not just a writing prompt — there’s this exercise we have to do together first.” Steve followed him into the kitchen, adjusting his hearing aid. “I, uh, I haven’t really seen you all week and I was getting worried we would run out of time.”

Sam suspected that wasn’t the only thing Steve had been worried about. He was still fidgeting and wouldn’t quite meet Sam’s eyes. Sam reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, causing Steve to look up.

“Sorry, Steve. It’s been a rough week.”

“You feeling better now though?” Steve’s eyes were filled with concern.

“Yeah, I am.” He dropped his hand back down to his side and leaned against the counter. “So tell me about this exercise we’re supposed to do.”

The fidgeting picked up again. “Well, we, um— we have to sit facing each other and silently maintain eye contact for three minutes.”

“Okay? That sounds weird, but sure. Should we just sit at the table?”

“Apparently it builds intimacy or something? And, well, there’s not supposed to be anything in between us. I was thinking that, um, the best place would probably be, well—” Steve rolled his eyes, seemingly at himself. “The best place would probably be sitting on the bed.”

Well, that explained all the nervous fidgeting. “Sounds like a plan. You wanna do this now? Or did you want to get some dinner first? I’m kinda feeling like Thai tonight.”

“Oh, uh, now? That way we can get it over with?”

“Sure. Let’s do this.”

Sam led the way into the bedroom and kicked off his shoes. He settled himself cross-legged on the bed facing Steve.

“How close are we supposed to be?”

“Um, it said close, but not touching so um...” Steve scooted over so that there was only about a handspan of space between their knees. “Here’s probably good. Oh! My phone — we need a timer.”

Sam held out a hand to stop Steve from jumping up. “Mine’s in my pocket.” He leaned back to fish it out.

“Alright, three minutes on the timer, aaaaand go.” Sam pressed start and locked eyes with Steve.

It was weird, staring into Steve’s eyes like that. Every instinct was telling him to run, to deflect, to escape. He wanted to move, but he was glued in place. 

As time went on, the silence became palpable, curling around them, a wall separating them from rest of the world. The only things that seemed real were the bed underneath him and Steve’s eyes across from him. They could have been adrift in the ocean or careening through space or in the middle of a warzone and he never would have noticed.

He felt like he was being flayed alive, like his heart was being split open and all of him was spilling out. Without the distraction, without the ability to look away, he knew that every single thought and feeling was being projected across the space between them.

There was no coming back from this. He knew that his feelings for Steve were written plain across his face. There was no way he could miss it. Sam took a shuddering breath and forced himself to maintain eye contact.

He gazed through Steve’s glasses into his deep blue eyes. Suddenly he realized that what he was seeing there was not indifference or pity, nor mere friendship or affection. He could see his own emotions, his own longing staring back at him out of Steve’s eyes. He heard himself gasp softly and saw Steve’s eyes begin to water.

How long had it been? Surely time was almost up. He wished he could take a glance at the timer, but he didn’t dare avert his eyes, didn’t dare risk the connection between them that was getting stronger by the second, but was still as fragile as spun glass.

His heart was bursting out of his chest, his breathing loud and labored in his ears. When the timer finally went off, he heard it as if from a distance, but it broke the spell all the same. Before he could even think, he was holding Steve in his arms, kissing him with everything he had.

Sam poured his entire self into the kiss; all his fears, all his doubts, all his love. And Steve was pouring it all right back. Steve’s fingers dug into the muscles of his back and Sam ran one hand up to tangle in his soft blond hair, the other placed firmly in the small of his back to pull him closer, to keep him from escaping.

The moment stretched and grew, and it became more and more clear that Steve had no desire to escape. He was clinging to Sam just as tightly and kissing him just as desperately. Eventually the kiss slowed and their mouths parted. 

They were both on their knees, thighs and chests pressed together. Sam leaned his forehead against Steve’s and kept his eyes closed.

“Wow,” Steve breathed.

“Yeah.” He was still panting, trying to catch his breath.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.”

Sam looked into Steve’s eyes again. “How long?”

Steve gave him a wry half-smile. “Pretty much since I met you.”

“Why didn’t you?” 

“According to Bucky, because I’m an idiot.”

Sam huffed a laugh and gently pushed Steve’s hair back off his forehead. “You’re not an idiot.”

“I kind of am.” Steve looked down, the flush on his cheeks deepening. “I didn’t understand— I didn’t ask. I just assumed, and all this time— all this time—”

Sam kissed him before he could go any farther. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Steve.”

“It’s not,” Steve protested, but Sam just pulled him in tighter, pressing Steve’s face into the crook of his neck.

“It is.” He kissed the top of Steve’s head and ran a hand soothingly up and down his narrow back. “We’re both idiots, but we’ll sort it all out. It’s gonna be alright. From here on out, we’re gonna to be just fine.”

Steve opened his mouth to speak again, but Sam just silenced him with kisses until he gave up trying. Sam felt Steve finally let go, felt him give up and just melt into the moment. He tipped them over onto the bed and lost himself in Steve.

Sam wasn’t sure how long they lay there, arms wrapped around each other and legs intertwined, trading sweet kisses and gentle touches. Eventually they were interrupted by his growling stomach.

Steve pulled back and grinned, glasses slightly askew. It was adorable and Sam wanted to see this exact sight every damn day. “You mentioned Thai food earlier?”

Sam grinned back at him. “I did. We should get some of that.” He leaned in and kissed Steve again. Steve let him, but then put a hand on his chest and gently pushed him back.

“We should also, you know, _talk_.” Steve looked at his fingers playing in the folds of Sam’s shirt.

“Mmmmm, talking. We’re really bad at that.” Sam dipped down to kiss the edge of Steve’s jaw.

Steve tipped his head up to give him better access, breathing heavily as he tried to get words out. “Yes, yes we are. And if you keep doing that, there will be no food and no talking. And there really needs to be talking. Also I’m hungry.”

Sam dragged his nose back up Steve’s neck and captured his mouth in another kiss, deep and wet and full of all the things he had never been able to say. Steve moaned into it and Sam couldn’t help but smile.

He forced himself to pull away and then moved completely off the bed. He looked down at Steve. “Food, and talking.” He extended a hand and Steve reached up to grab it, lacing their fingers together. “Let’s go.”

 

They ordered food, remembering Sam’s extra fish sauce, and talked. When the air was clear and the first tentative steps had been made, they cleared the leftover food off the table, put the dishes in the sink, changed into their pajamas, and tumbled back into bed. It wasn’t anything they hadn’t done before, but it was completely new.

They were just about to turn off the light when Sam’s phone buzzed.

_Soooooo did you talk to Steve?_

“C’mere, you.” Sam rolled over and pulled Steve into a kiss.

The picture he sent to Sarah was blurry and off center, but the string of celebratory emojis that she responded with made him pretty sure that she had gotten the idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you have it folks! Chapter 12 is gonna be just a short epilogue, so look out for that tomorrow and thanks again for all the comments and kudos and squeeing over on [tumblr](http://i-will-not-be-caged.tumblr.com). You guys are the best!
> 
> There is now art for this chapter! It's so pretty! [Go check it out!](http://i-will-not-be-caged.tumblr.com/post/147239278096/so-i-commissioned-bravenazar-for-a-scene-from-my)


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is - the epilogue! I've had such a great time writing this story. Thank you to everyone who cheered me on and commented and left kudos and read any of it. I didn't really think I'd be able to write a longer fic (for me, at least) when I started this, but it's been so much fun and that's because of all of you.
> 
> Oh yeah, and @wilsonrogers - I swear I had written the epilogue before I ever read your comment. Great minds think alike, I guess :)

Bucky decided they all needed to go out for a “we stopped being idiots and got over our shit” celebration. He didn’t call it that when he invited Natasha along, but everyone else was fully aware of the reality.

Tony had tried to turn it into a full-fledged gala when Bucky mentioned it, but Pepper and Jim had reined him in. If he thought Pepper had been good at wrangling Tony, it was nothing compared to when the two of them joined forces.

Bucky stood at the bar and watched Sam and Steve dance. Well, sort of dance. They were mostly just making out and swaying, but still. It was good to see.

“It’s about damn time.” Jim leaned against the bar next to him.

“That’s for sure.” Bucky took a swig of his beer. “I’m gonna go ahead and take credit for this one. If I had never moved to New York, I don’t think they ever would have pulled their heads out of their asses.”

“I was working on it! I would have gotten Sam there eventually.”

“Says the man who didn’t even know he was dating his own boyfriend until I came along.” Bucky gave Jim a sly grin.

“Hey now! Even Tony admitted that wasn’t my fault.” Jim sipped his drink and shook his head. “Did you know he thought he was in a relationship with both me _and_ Pepper? That we were a happy, functional, polyamorous triad?” Bucky just laughed. “Seriously, world’s worst communicator.”

Bucky pulled himself together. “You guys are working all that out, though? Headed in the direction of happy and functional?”

“Yeah, yeah we are. I think it’s gonna be good.” Jim picked at the label on his beer and smiled. “I’m still claiming part of the credit for those two idiots, though.”

“Like hell you are!”

“Boys, please.” They both started at the sound of Natasha’s voice. “If anyone gets credit for our two lovebirds, it’s me.” She fished an olive out of her martini and popped it into her mouth.

Bucky and Jim looked at her in surprise.

“What? Did you really think I had fallen for their whole fake relationship bit?”

Bucky shook his head. “Are you ever going to tell them?”

Natasha shrugged. “Eventually. Maybe.”


End file.
